


The Shape of Mathematics [ON HOLD]

by Lady_Belles_lettres



Category: Baldi's Basics in Education and Learning
Genre: And he has anger issues, Anger Management, Angst, Baldi's actually a nice teacher, Bully is a brat, Child Abuse, Gen, He just loves Maths a bit too much, Mathematics, Origin Story, POV First Person, Student Abuse, The principal is also a kind guy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Belles_lettres/pseuds/Lady_Belles_lettres
Summary: Being a teacher ain't easy. You have to deal with mischievous students, grade their homework and educate them so they become useful adults in the future. Baldi's okay with that! He teaches his students maths so that they can master the subject.Shouldn't be a problem. After all, everybody's favourite subject is maths. Everyone loves maths, right? ...right?





	1. The First Lesson of Mathematics!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, now I can't believe that I've written a fanfic for a meme game like Baldi's Basics, but I guess, why not?  
> The school is unnamed in the game but I decided to name it Thing Elementary School because of the Principal's name.  
> Baldi's description is inspired by this beautiful fanart by KoffeeSpace: https://thatlovelylady.deviantart.com/art/Baldi-746248711 while the Principal's description is not mentioned, I imagine him to look like this (fanart by lunarr-rrose): https://lunarr-rrose.tumblr.com/post/174099908271/oof
> 
> I'm pretty sure that Mystman12 (the creator of the game) will create a lore for Baldi's Basics in the future. If that happens, my fanfiction will probably become inaccurate, but, *shrugs*.
> 
> THIS STORY MIGHT HAVE SOME SENSITIVE TOPICS SUCH AS CHILD ABUSE (It's not that explicit actually). IF I OFFEND ANYONE, I AM TRULY SORRY! PLEASE COMMENT ON HOW I CAN FIX IT. THANK YOU ^ ^

A ray of sunshine greeted the school hallways when I opened the doors to the main entrance.

          It was another year as a math teacher at Thing Elementary School, and today was going to be the first lesson of teaching mathematics to the new batch of students. The thought of seeing their eager and excited faces when they explore the world of numbers filled me with rapturous joy!

          I gave my green sweater a quick dust and adjusted the collar of my crisp white shirt. First impressions are very important as their new math teacher. After all, an educator should be an admirable role model for his students.

          I walked towards the classroom, carrying my satchel and gripping a one-meter ruler in my hand. The science teacher had once advised me to use the ruler in disciplining students. She told me that she owned a ruler similar to mine. Woe betide any students who dare be naughty in class- that ruler would land hard on their knuckles as a punishment.

          Of course, the science teacher was being too strict; I would never do such a thing to my students! Throughout my years as a teacher, my students were well-behaved. I didn’t deny that there were a few mischievous kids who played pranks on their classmates, but overall, they never did anything serious. However, I had to admit that students were more obedient when I held the ruler. So, I guess there was no harm in bringing the ruler with me.

          Outside the classroom, I could hear the chattering of students. Suddenly, all of the enthusiasm that I possessed earlier had turned into butterflies in my stomach. I glanced below and could see my hands shake. Oh, my, who knew that this would make me so nervous!

          I took a deep breath to calm myself down. _C’mon, Baldi, they’re just little children. Don’t be so nervous!_

          Indeed. There was no reason for me to get so wrought up about. I had done the same thing for the past two years- introduce myself, introduce math, ask the students to introduce themselves and then teach them math. It was nothing too difficult. Everything will end up alright.

          I shook my head and put my hand on the doorknob.

          I shouldn’t keep them waiting.

          I opened the door and went straight to the teacher’s desk. The students were still talking with their friends and playing around, which made me wonder if they even noticed me. Heh, typical children.

         After putting my things on the teacher’s desk, I cleared my throat as loudly as I could to get their attention. It seemed to have caught a few of the students’ attention, so, I proceeded with my introduction.

          "Hello, kids," I said cheerfully. "Welcome to math class! I'm your teacher, Mr. Baldimore!”

          Some of the students stared at me with curious eyes while others were beginning to look bored. The large boy in orange seemed to be the least focused of them and was more interested in throwing paper planes at his peers.

          "Now, you kids may be wondering what is math all about." I continued. "We use math every day in life! In fact-"

          The boy in orange grunted in frustration when he ran out of paper planes. He then took out an opened lunchbox filled with (what I presumed to be) mashed potatoes from under his desk. My heart almost stopped as I assumed the worst was about to happen.

          I quickly pointed towards the boy. “Hey, you!” I exclaimed. “Put that thing dow-”

          As if everything went in slow motion, the boy flung the lunchbox and it flew across the classroom. The next thing I knew, some gooey substance was splattered onto my face, obscuring my vision.

          I could hear gasps from the students and the classroom was _finally_ silent.

          “Sorry, teach,” said- who I presumed was- the troublemaker who threw the lunchbox at me. “That was meant for Play _tiiiiiime_.”

          So much for a good first impression...

                                                                     ***

Today’s lesson didn’t go as well as I hoped for.

          Getting my face splattered with mashed potatoes in front of the students was definitely not part of the plan. One of them even had to offer me her handkerchief so I could wipe the gunk off. How embarrassing!

          It didn’t help that the boy who threw the lunchbox (whose name I found out was Bully) kept on asking me silly questions that were irrelevant to the topic that I was teaching. Now, this sort of behaviour was normal for mischievous children his age, but never- __never__  have I ever met a kid whose questions were as rude as his.

          “Alright, kids,” I said after giving the students a worksheet each. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me!”

          Bully raised up his hand. “Ooh, teach, I have a ques _tiiiiiion_!”

          I perked up when Bully said this. I loved it when my students asked me questions; it usually made them understand math more. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for Bully.

          “What is it, Bully?”

          “How old are you, _t_ _eeeeeeach_?” asked Bully.

          I didn’t expect such a question from a student. Nevertheless, I answered his question. “I’m 32 years old. Why do you ask that?”

          “Oh, really?” said Bully with a smirk. “Then, why are you bald? I thought only old men were _baaaaaald_.”

          The other students started to giggle. I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Ooh, that little-!

          “That question is irrelevant!” I exclaimed. “Stay on topic, Bully!”

          “Is that why your name is Baldi, Mr. Baldi _moooooore_?”

          At this point, the whole class were laughing their guts out. I struck my ruler on the blackboard to silence everyone. Bully still had that smug look on his face and it irritated me.

          “If you continue with this nonsense, young man, I have no choice but to send you to the Principal’s office for detention!” I said, waving my ruler threateningly.

          Bully immediately kept quiet when he heard this... for 15 minutes, that is. He then continued to ask annoying, but thankfully, less insulting questions. I tried my best to keep my composure and focus on teaching.

          But there was one question of Bully’s that made my blood boil.

          “Teach,” said Bully. “What’s the point of studying math? It’s not like it’s useful or any _thiiiiiing_.”

          I remembered feeling as if a monster had arisen inside of me. My grip on the ruler became tight and I _really_  wanted to hit Bully with it.

          I tried my best to get a hold of myself. “Math is a _very_  important thing, Bully.” I said. I noticed that the girl sitting in front of me was squirming uncomfortably, but I didn’t care. “Without math, your life would mean **nothing**  to you.”

           The students had sensed the tense atmosphere and instantly stood still on their chairs. The fat little sh*t, however, didn't look like he felt guilty at all.

          “Oh, yeah?” said Bully. “I think math is stu _piiiiiid_!”

          That was the last straw. ****Bully had no right to talk about math that way.****

I approached Bully slowly while slapping the ruler on my hand repeatedly. I must have looked menacing because the students were cowering and whimpering with fear, even Bully himself.

          “How dare you say that, you little s***.” I said. “You’re going to get it from me!”

          Bully apologised, but I paid it no heed. He had caused so much trouble. I couldn’t wait to smack his face until it became flaming red.

          I finally reached Bully’s desk at the back of the classroom. Bully was practically crying now. He promised that he would behave and begged for me to not hurt him. “I’m sorry, sir! Please don’t hit _meeeeee_!!”

          A loud bell rang and snapped me out of my angry thoughts. I quickly realized my actions and dropped the ruler on the floor.

          “Class is dismissed.” I said. I couldn’t even recognize my own voice. The cheerfulness in it was all gone; it just sounded... flat.

          The students quickly packed up their things and left the classroom. Bully gawked at me for a few seconds and then immediately ran outside after the initial shock had died down.

          When the class was empty, I threw myself into my chair, utterly shocked at myself.

          Oh, God, what was I thinking...? I... I almost hurt one of my students! Bully was annoying, but he didn't deserve a smack on the face, especially with a one-meter ruler. Sure, he made fun of me, but there were other people who also insulted me in the past. There was no need to get angry at him.

          But, then again, he insulted math. He said that he found it stupid. That was a great offense if you asked me. I just loved math too much that I get angry at anyone who insults it. For some reason, calling math stupid irritates me more than insulting my baldness.

          God. All of this was giving me a headache. The lesson was supposed to make the students love math, but instead, I just scared them.

          I slammed my face onto the desk in frustration. _Ugh_ , I just hope that something like this won’t happen again.

                                                                  ***

The next day, I went to school feeling a lot less enthusiastic.

          When I got to the classroom, the students were chattering and playing around like nothing happened. To be honest, it made me feel relieved. I was worried that they might have been traumatised by yesterday's incident.

          I took everyone’s attendance and started the class like I would normally do. There was one person whom I feared wouldn’t come to math class today, and it was Bully.

          Bully’s absence made the class a lot more peaceful, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

          I gave the students some homework before class ended. When the bell rang, the students excitedly ran out of the classroom. A familiar face suddenly appeared outside the door.

          “Ah, Mr. Baldimore,” said the Principal. “Hope you’re not busy right now. I would like to have a word with you in my office.”

           My gut told me that the Principal wanted to talk about yesterday’s occurrence. “I-it’s fine, Mr. Principal sir,” I said. “I’m not busy now.”

          We both went to the Principal’s office. The Principal offered me to take a seat that was provided for visitors in front of his desk. He then took a seat himself at his desk.

          “Everything alright?” asked the Principal. I felt like this was rhetorical rather than an actual question. “I’ve received some complaints from one of your students’ parents.”

          I dipped my head down in shame, unable to face him. “W-well,” I said. “There was one boy who was saying rather unpleasant things in class yesterday. Things sort of got out of hand.”

          “Yes. Bully, right?” said the Principal. “It was the boy’s parents who filed the complaint. They told me that Bully told them that you almost hurt him. Bully’s parents didn’t want him to be in the same room with a dangerous person, so, he’s not taking math class anymore.”

          My heart sunk when I heard this. That explained Bully’s absence today.

          Ha, dangerous person. I’m... I’m not a dangerous person. I love children! I would never harm them!

          I’m not a dangerous person! ...right?

         _God, I’ve screwed everything up, haven’t I?_

          “I’m sorry, sir.” I said. “Bully was disturbing the class… but I should’ve controlled myself better.”

          The Principal sighed. I could detect the disappointment in it.  “I’m not so sure what exactly happened yesterday,” he said. “But I hope this will be the first and the last.”

          “I’m really sorry,” I said. “Even __I__  couldn’t believe that I would do such a thing.”

          The Principal put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Look, you’re a kind teacher, Baldi.” he said. “Bully shouldn’t have angered you. You’re his teacher and he should respect you as your student.”

          He gave a comforting smile which made me feel more relaxed. “I just want to make sure that nothing bad happens.”

          I felt a bit reassured but the guilt that inhabited inside of me wouldn’t go away. The Principal gave me another pat on the shoulder and let me off.

          When I was heading back to the classroom, I saw Bully run down the hallway in the corner of my eye. I decided to sprint so I could catch up to him. Maybe I could convince him to re-join math class!

          “No running in the halls, Mr. Baldimore.”

          Oh, the Principal startled me! He just appeared out of nowhere! I gave him a sheepish nod and waited for him to leave the hallways.

          When I turned back to Bully, he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baldi says that he's 32 years old, but I just made up his age. The game itself never reveals the ages of the characters. If Mystman12 decides to add the characters' ages, I might edit Baldi's age in this fanfic.


	2. The Task of a Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! This chapter took me three weeks to finish! I'm happy that it's finally done!  
> This is one of the longest chapters I've ever done. It's 8 pages long! Hopefully, this long chapter is enough to make up for the long wait!
> 
> I just want to let you guys know that I'm going to have two important exams soon. One in August and another one in November. My future depends on these exams, so I have to focus on my studies. I'll probably won't be publishing any chapters for any of my stories until December. If I'm lucky, I might have time to write another chapter, but it's highly unlikely.
> 
> I've recently found a fanart of Bully made by Kiiro on the BBiEaL Amino. Her fanart is super cute! I really liked Bully's hoodie in the fanart, so I imagined the Bully in this story to have the same hoodie. Only that the Bully in this story is a lot fatter... and less cute. You can check out the fanart here: http://aminoapps.com/p/m85jjr
> 
> Also, I just found out that Baldi's semi-canon last name is Baldimore. I said semi-canon because Mystman12 said that he didn't know if he wanted to make it canon or not. For me, why not use the name anyway? So, Baldi will be referred to as Mr. Baldimore from now on. I even edited the previous chapter to change Baldi to Baldimore. You can re-read the chapter if you want to. I also edited some miscellaneous mistakes in the first chapter. 
> 
> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING TOWARDS THE END OF THIS CHAPTER, BE CAREFUL.  
> It's not explicit that though, so, I think it should be fine.

It had been a month since Bully left math class. Since then, classes had been pretty normal. Bully hadn’t been in math class long enough for me to predict how classes would have been like with him around, but I presumed that it would have been a lot less... peaceful.

          I still caught a glimpse of the boy from time to time. I often spotted him in the hallways, blocking other students from passing through and taking their belongings without their consent. Bully’s teachers have been complaining that despite their efforts to control his behaviour by sending him to detention, it seemed that he didn’t even bat an eye and continued to become a menace. The Principal had even considered expelling him from the school, but finally changed his mind out of sympathy after seeing Bully’s mother break down in tears at the prospect. 

          I admit that Bully’s words had left an emotional impact on me. Ever since the incident, there were instances where I would wake up in the middle of the night, heart hammering and sleepwear completely drenched in sweat, as it turned out that I was having a nightmare about him.

          Usually, it would just be Bully spouting out mockery about me and math. In some dreams, he would simply repeat what he said during math class that day. Other times, he would say revolting things that a 7 year old kid shouldn't even know. 

          But that was just tip of the iceberg. The most horrible nightmares were the ones where I never came to my senses and attacked Bully with my ruler. In spite of the boy’s pleas for me to stop, I never did. I shudder to remember the awful sounds of my ruler thwacking Bully’s face and his distressed cries for help... even if it wasn’t real.

          Nevertheless, Bully wasn’t one who deserved a grudge on. After all, he was still a young child and had a lot to learn. If all goes well, Bully would eventually change his ways, not only for his teachers’ sake, but for his own too.

          The bell had rung, and as usual, the students ran out of the classroom like little ducklings chasing their mother. I was left alone with a stack of homework to grade. After putting on my reading glasses, I picked up a student’s homework from the stack and started to grade it.

          _(3+3×12)÷3=13_ , that’s correct.

 _(4×6+8)-7=_ 25, that’s correct too.

About 5 minutes, I finished grading a few homework papers. A smile formed on my face seeing most of my students get all correct. I remembered the first day of class where they were struggling to comprehend formulas and equations. It warmed my heart that my students were improving to become little mathematicians!

          I was about to take another student’s homework when a shriek came from the hallways and made me bump into my desk, causing the stack of homework to fall to the floor, scattered.

          Oh, great. It was one thing to grade the papers, and now I had to pick them up! What the Hell was going on out there?

      _“Whoooooooooooosh!!”_

          Oh, God. Not this again.

          I got up from my seat and poked my head into the hallway. At a distance, I could see Arts and Crafters loom over another student with his mouth wide open.

          “Arts and Crafters!” I shouted. He immediately froze at that spot and turned his head to me timidly. “This is the third time you’ve attacked another student! Detention at the Principal’s office! NOW!”

          Arts and Crafters hung his head sadly and walked away from his victim. I never took my eyes off him until he went into the Principal’s office. The student who was attacked stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. I gave him a thumbs up to assure that everything was alright. He quickly went out of there and I went back to work.

          Arts and Crafters was a hard-working student, albeit a bit shy. He has always tried hard to be the best in class. It’s a very good trait a student should have, but unfortunately, was overshadowed by his tendency to lash out at any student whose performance was better than his.

          I had just graded Art and Crafters’s homework. He only got two wrong answers, which was impressive, even though there was still room for improvement. But what he did just now was unacceptable. Hopefully, a trip to the Principal’s office will put an end to his unruly attitude.

          Picking up the scattered homework papers took a bit of my time, but I was back in business not long after that. I couldn’t wait to grade the rest of the homework papers. There was no doubt that the rest of them will have a lot corrects too!

          _(2+2)×6=18_? That’s not right!

          Hm... The question wasn’t a hard one. It was probably a careless mistake.

          _15+15=1515_

This was a joke, right? There was no way anybody would get a question like this wrong.

          My heart sank deeper and deeper with every question I marked. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. All of the answers were wrong!

          Whose homework was this?!

          My eyes briefly glanced at the messy scrawl at the top-right corner of the page. It was Playtime’s homework.

          What was Playtime’s problem? Didn’t she understand what I taught her? The other students seemed to understand, why couldn’t she?

          _Or... did she...?_ No, it couldn’t be. Playtime was always paid attention when I was teaching. Surely, she loved math. No way. There was no way she thought math was stupid.

          I forced my eyes to read the last answer on Playtime’s homework.

         (7-2)×(3+3)÷2=:<

          Something started to well up in my chest. Something that made me tremble with _rage_. My grip on my red pen tightened as if my life depended on it.

          What a rude child! **How dare she give such a ridiculous answer! She _does_ hate math, doesn’t she?!**

          **When I get my hands on that brat, I’ll-**

          A stinging pain in my right hand snapped me out of my thoughts. I gasped as I unclenched my fist and saw blood on my palm.

          Damn it, there goes my temper again. My fingernails dug too deep into my skin that I’ve accidentally cut myself. It was a good thing that Playtime wasn’t there at the time, I might’ve lashed out at her like I almost did with Bully.

          I’d better take a break from grading homework, and not to mention, clean up my wound.

          Ugh. Seeing the blood gush out of the wound was making my stomach churn uncomfortably. Maybe that was another reason why I wasn’t a science teacher. I’d probably faint when dissecting frogs and mice during anatomy lessons.

           But the blood was just one thing. My frazzled mind thinking about Playtime’s poor performance in math was making the nausea even worse.

        I needed to do something about it. From tomorrow, I should look out for Playtime and guide her until she masters the basics to the advanced calculation.

          Playtime was going to conquer the task of perfecting the subject of mathematics, _whether she liked it or not._

                                                                     ***

  Just as I promised myself the day before, I kept a close eye on Playtime.

          She seemed to concentrate hard on today’s lesson. Nothing unusual. Though, there was the occasional yawn from her.

          Did she find the lesson boring? _Was_ the lesson boring? The odds of it made me stifle with worry, but I didn’t let it distract me.

          “So,” I said, clasping my hands together. “Does anyone here have any questions regarding today’s topic?”

          I could hear my heart pound fiercely with anticipation in my chest. Even though the question was directed to the whole class, I was expecting Playtime to raise up her hand and ask a question. I was willing to clear up any confusion she might have had that made her weak in this subject.

          My heart skipped a beat when I saw movement in the red-clad girl. But it turned out that she just wanted to place her elbow on her desk. It was Arts and Crafters, instead, who raised his... um, whole body.

          I gestured towards him. “What is it, Arts and Crafters?”

          _“Ooooosh?”_

          “Why, yes,” I said. “The test will still go on this Thursday. I expect you kids to give your all for the test.”

          Some of the students made rude noises to express dissatisfaction. On the other hand, Arts and Crafters bounced his elastic body up and down and seemed excited for the test.

          My eyes darted towards Playtime. She was speaking with the girl who sat beside her. The sweet smile that she usually possessed had turned into a frown. The loud chatter of the other kids made it hard to listen to their conversation, but I had a hunch that Playtime wasn’t too pleased with the test either.

          I cleared my throat loudly to gather attention. “Any more questions?” I asked.

          I waited for a few moments to receive a response. Unfortunately, there was only silence and a few shook their heads. There was an intent look on Playtime’s face but otherwise, she sat still and quiet. With a heavy heart, I dismissed the class.

          The smile returned to Playtime’s face and she proceeded to pack her things. The jump rope that dangled in her little hand bounced as she skipped towards the door. “I can’t wait to play!” she said cheerfully.

          I managed to grab Playtime’s shoulder before she could exit the classroom. “Playtime,” I said, voice stern enough so that she would listen. “I need to talk to you.”

          Playtime blinked at me like a confused child. "What is it, sir?” she asked. Her smile suddenly grew wider. “Would you like to play jump rope with me and my friend?”

          Oh, my. Was playing the only thing in her mind?

          “ _Please_ , Playtime,” I said. “This is no time for fun and games. It’s very serious!”

          Playtime seemed to have gotten the point. She hung her head and started picking at her jump rope. “It’s my homework, isn’t it, Mr. Baldimore?” she said. “Sorry, sir. I know that I’ve gotten a lot of mistakes.”

          “You didn’t just get a lot of mistakes,” I said. “You got all of them wrong!”

          Playtime started to shift her gaze to the side. I bent down to her level and held her shoulders. “What happened?” I said. “You did well in previous assignments. Why did you suddenly get a lot of mistakes in this one?”

          Play scratched the back of her head. “I don’t know, sir,” she said. “I think that the questions were too hard.”

          “Well, you could’ve asked me.” I said. “One or two wrong answers is fine. But to have no correct answers at all is very worrying!”

          Playtime shrugged. “The basics are easy, sir," she said. “But I still haven’t got the hang of complex questions yet.”

          “You’ve got to practice, then!” I exclaimed. “How can you improve in math if you don’t practice?”

          Playtime repeatedly tapped her foot on the ground impatiently and kept on glancing towards the exit.

          I sighed. “Look, Playtime,” I said. “I know you want to play. But this is important. You can’t spend your whole time just playing. You need to improve your math skills!”

          “Sorry, sir," said Playtime. I could sense genuine guilt in her voice. “I’ll try harder.”

          I put rubbed her head reassuringly. “That’s wonderful, Playtime.” I said. “I’m really concerned for you. Math is important in our daily life! If you don’t master it at a young age, life can be tough for you when you grow up.”

          I stood up and took a workbook from my desk. Playtime’s eyes widened when I handed her the book. “I’ve compiled some math worksheets for you.” I said. “Do a worksheet every day after school. Eventually, you’ll start to understand complex questions.”

          “But, sir-”

          I gave her a warm smile. “Don’t forget about the test.” I said. “You have three more days to study. Make sure that you ace it!”

          Playtime put the workbook into her bag. “Yes, Mr. Baldimore," she said. “I’ll do my best.”

          I nodded my head and gave Playtime a hug, in which she obligingly returned it. “I treat you kids as if you were my own.” I said. “I’ve said this a lot of times, but I’ll say it again. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask for my help.”

          Playtime let go of me. “My friend’s waiting for me.” she said. “Bye, Mr. Baldimore!”

          I waved at Playtime. “See you tomorrow!”

          Playtime gleefully left the room while skipping with her jump rope.

          I was amazed at how playful that child is! I knew that children her age can get a bit out of hand, but I hoped that she wouldn’t get too distracted to study.

                                                                      ***

It happened. I couldn’t believe it actually _happened_.

          The thing that I feared the most and prayed that would never _ever_ happen had happened. A student had _failed_ the test. Playtime had **_failed_** the test.

          All of Playtime’s classmates have passed except for her. I was dumbfounded and very much upset. Arts and Crafters and a few others had managed to get high marks. I was hoping that Playtime could at least pass her test.

          This was serious business. I couldn’t let the matter prolong any longer. Before the students headed home, I had one of them inform Playtime to come to the staff room so we could discuss it.

          While waiting for her, I nursed a migraine that was starting to form. The English teacher, who was in the staff room with me at the time, had asked if anything was wrong. To be honest, it would be nice to have someone whom I could pour out my heart to. The bottled up feelings that resided inside of me was driving me crazy! However, the English teacher wasn’t a counsellor nor was he someone whom I was particularly close to, so, there was no point in involving him in my problems. I simply told him that I slept late last night, busy grading students’ homework.

          Rubbing my temples managed to ease the headache a little, but the utter disappointment was suffocating me, physically and emotionally. I didn’t even know if I was either disappointed with Playtime, or myself.

          _Did Playtime fail because of me?_ I tried my damn best to make sure that she understood everything, but maybe it wasn’t enough. It was a slight blow to my pride since all this while, my students never failed their exams.

          _“Pitter-patter.”_

          The sound of footsteps had caught my attention. A small figure appeared at the entrance. “Mr. Baldimore,” said Playtime, the ever-present smile plastered on her face. “Did you call me?”

          “Yes, Playtime,” I said. “Come here. We need to discuss something.”

          Playtime skipped to my desk while holding the same jump rope in hand. For some reason, irritation pricked at my nerves seeing the rope and a part of me wanted to snatch the thing away from her.

          “I’ve just finished grading your test paper," I told Playtime. “And I’m not satisfied with your results. _At all._ ”

          I handed Playtime her test paper. She stared at her test paper, eyes as wide as saucers.

          “Oh.” was the only word that came out of her mouth.

          “Playtime.” I said, almost growling due to frustration, but luckily, managed to keep my composure. “I thought that you promised that you would study hard.”

          “I...”

          “Did you do the workbook that I gave you?” I asked. “If you bothered to give it a try, I’m pretty sure you would have no problem solving math questions.”

          “I...”

          “If you keep this up, you’ll never improve!” I exclaimed. “Do you even have the book with you right now?”

          “I... lent it to someone, sir.”         

          Suddenly, the same feeling when Bully said math was stupid... the same feeling when I graded Playtime’s homework five days ago... the dangerous feeling that I had always tried hard to suppress began to spread through me rapidly.

          I just couldn’t hold it any longer!

          I grabbed my meter ruler from my desk and smacked it on the floor. The noise emitted echoed against the walls of the staff room. Playtime let out a small yelp as she leapt away from me.

          “ _Playtime_ ,” I hissed. “What do you mean you lent it to someone? The workbook was meant for you, and only for you! I gave it to you so you could practice and understand the questions you couldn’t solve!”

          The blood pounding in my ears was becoming louder that I could even barely hear what I was saying. “Who did you lent it to?”

          “Arts and Crafters.” said Playtime. “He saw the book when I was trying to solve some questions in class and wanted to try it out himself. He never gave the book back...”

          “The sock?!” I said. “He’s already good in math! He doesn’t need extra practice! I gave the book to you so _you_ could improve. I mean, you’re practically the weakest in class!”

          I snatched Playtime’s test paper from her hands and shoved it in her face. “It’s evident-” I pointed at the marks written on the top corner of the test paper. “-here!” I said. “And why didn’t you ask Arts and Crafters to give you back the workbook?!”

          “I’m sorry, sir.” said Playtime. “I wanted to play. And to be frank, solving math problems can get boring after a while.”

          A wave of rage smouldered me like molten lava. Suddenly, I felt as if beating the life out of the little brat in front of me was a good way to relieve the frustration and anger that flooded my veins.

          “ **What. Did. You. Say?”**

          Playtime squirmed uncomfortably. “W-what I’m trying to say is that I don’t really find math as interesting as play-”

          I could vaguely feel my hand swing and hit something- no, someone. It was followed by a loud crash and a high-pitched scream. I could also hear an audible gasp not far away.

          The world around me was becoming more and more distant. It was as if everything that was happening wasn’t real; as if it was all just a dream.           

          Even though I wasn’t aware of myself, I could _very_ much feel the rage that consumed me. “Would seriously waste your entire childhood on playing?!” I shouted. Wait, was it really me who shouted? I-it didn’t sound like me... “Children like you should be taught a lesson!”

          The whole room was flooded with the cries of a child and the shouts of another man.

          “Why is everything so blurry?! I can’t see anything!”

          “Mr. Baldimore! Stop what you’re doing!”

          I couldn’t remember what I did next, but I could recognise the terrible sounds that I often heard in my nightmares. I wanted it to stop. But I couldn’t make it stop.

          _“Thwack!”_

Stop.

          _“Thwack! Thwack!”_

          Please, stop.

          _“Thwack! Thwack!”_

          SOMEBODY, JUST MAKE IT STOP!

          The sounds stopped when I felt somebody grab my arms from behind. I struggled to get out of this person’s grip, but they were too strong.

          “I’m sorry, Mr. Baldimore, but this is for your own good.”

          I felt something hard strike the back of my head. The whole world started to melt away and my eyelids felt heavy.

          _Must... stay awake. No... shouldn’t... close my eyes! So... sleepy._

          Every muscle in my body became weak. I could feel something slip from my grip and land on the floor with a _clank!_

          “What in the world is going on here?!”

          The last thing I noticed before I completely slipped away was the figure of a man in a black shirt with a white tie and the shocked look on his face as he saw me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter is edgy, isn't it? Hopefully, this fanfiction doesn't turn into the next Shadow the Hedgehog.
> 
> Constructive criticism is encouraged! I would appreciate advice on improving my writing.


	3. On Hold (Author's note)

"Well, this ain't a new chapter! What gives?"

I want to inform you guys that while I haven't completely decided to discontinue this story, I've decided to keep it on hold first. I've finished school, so I actually have a lot of time to write. However, I currently have no interest nor the idea to continue writing. Sadly, there seems to be a pattern where I create a new story and discontinue it after a few chapters. To be honest, I'd rather write my own story than spend my time completing a long fanfiction.

I'm sorry for those who have waited so long for the next chapter of Shape of Maths. It has been nine months since the last chapter, right? I've actually already written a bit of the third chapter, but ultimately got writer's block. I might continue it sometime in the future, but if my original novels become successful, I might discontinue this story. It's pretty awful to do so, but I personally think that it's better for one to do something they like than forcing oneself to write something they're not interested in. Of course, that doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy writing this story.

Don't worry; I still write fanfiction. Occasionally, I might post one-shots- not more than two chapters in worry of abandoning those stories again.

I really appreciate those who like and gave kudos to Shape of Maths. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 


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